Free Christmas in Cupid Falls by Holly Jacobs Page B

baby’s sake wasn’t on the list. But even without all that, she knew there was only one reason to marry—only one reason that could possibly make two people joining their lives together work. And because they were going to be parents wasn’t it. Practicality wasn’t it.
    She shook her head. “Thank you for asking, but the answer is still no. But what about my proposal to buy the Center?”
    Malcolm’s eyes narrowed as if he were trying to think of some lawyerly response. “I’d consider giving it to you as a wedding gift.”
    She laughed as if she thought he meant it as a joke, though she wasn’t quite sure that he had. “You can’t buy me, Malcolm. This isn’t some contract negotiation where you can find the proper terms to make me do what you want.”
    “I’m a lawyer. Negotiating is a big part of that.”
    She was insulted. If she wouldn’t marry him for a baby’s sake, why would he think she’d marry him to get the Center? “Well, good try, but no.”
    “I’ll ask again,” he said. “To clarify, that’s a promise, not a threat. I really think that being married is the right thing to do for our child.”
    Kennedy thought about making some retort, but in the end she decided it was safer to change the subject. “About the upcoming engagements. Most of the receptions and parties are easy. You unlock the door, then come back when it’s over and lock it again. Most people handle their own cooking and stage the facility on their own. Cleanup is also part of their contract. But we provide any and all if they’re willing to pay for it. Tavi and Gus have been doing the catering for us, and I have a list of kids I hire—well, you hire—to set up or clean up when necessary.”
    She pointed to the lists on the wall. “And that’s our cleaning crew an d . . . ”
    Half an hour later, Kennedy was pretty sure Malcolm could handle the upcoming events. He’d worked at the Center often enough as a kid. He needed to get caught up on the new procedures his mom had set up. Everything was simple, once you understood it. She was pretty sure he could handle things on his own. “Your mom really streamlined Pap’s system.”
    He looked at the laminated lists on the wall. “She did.”
    Kennedy had bought Val her own laminator last Christmas. Malcolm’s mom had fun using it all over the office. She’d call and fill Kennedy in on what new item had benefitted from her new toy.
    Kennedy felt a pang as she realized Val wouldn’t call her again.
    Malcolm’s expression looked as if he was missing her, too.
    “Sorry. Does it hurt to talk about her?” she asked.
    He thought a moment, then shook his head. “It did. At first it hurt so much. Something would happen and I’d reach for my phone to call her, and realize I couldn’t. I’d call Pap, and he’s always been so supportive, but he’s not Mom.”
    “She was a special lady,” Kennedy agreed. “After I got home from college and moved back in with Aunt Betty, Val found me sitting on the porch reading a book. She said she was baking her world-famous oatmeal cookies and could use a hand. She asked if I’d be interested.”
    “She taught you to make her cookies?” There was a gleam in his eye she’d never seen before as he asked.
    Kennedy nodded. “She taught me a lot about cooking.”
    “Me too. I’d call and ask how do you make this or that, and she’d help me through it, but I never asked about the cookies. She always had a plate of them when I came home. So I never needed to make them on my own. I missed finding them waiting for me when I got here the other day.”
    Without thinking, Kennedy reached over and placed her hand on his.
    He finished, “It really didn’t feel like coming home at all.”
    “I’m sorry,” she said.
    Val had always been the picture of health. The night before she passed away, she’d gone to the movies with Kennedy, like they did most Mondays.
    Then Tuesday morning, Pap had called with the horrible news. He’d